Our Story Part 8: Crisis Strikes

Winter turned to spring and the pregnancy was going beautifully.  I felt good, albeit tired, but I wasn't sick and I didn't have the usual complaints of early pregnancy.  I LOVED being pregnant!  When people asked how I was feeling, I would say it was a dream pregnancy and I felt like God had specifically made me for this baby making endeavor.  I loved knowing I was incubating a little life inside.  I loved following along in the baby books each week and comparing our baby to the various fruits and vegetables based on his estimated size.  I loved seeing my belly grow.  I loved dreaming what our life was going to be like once he arrived.  And yes, on April 3, 2015 we confirmed it was, indeed, a him.  We were going to have a son and he was doing well!  He was healthy and thriving.  Every non-invasive test we were advised to have done to screen for health, he was knocking out of the park!  All of my prayers for a strong, healthy little one were being answered.

Spring turned to summer and I was still feeling good but beginning to slow down and boy, did some of those later pregnancy symptoms start creeping up!  We attended a barbecue for our small group one Saturday afternoon and I felt like it took me forever to walk from the car to their backyard.  I knew I was slow but was I waddling too?  Granted, it was a long walk but I was out of breath by the time I reached their patio.  I thought to myself "I guess this is the beginning of the pregnancy shortness of breath I read so much about in all of the books."

Two days later, things took a turn.  I arrived at work on Monday and swiped my badge to access the secure area by the elevators.  My office was on the third floor and at almost seven months pregnant, I was definitely taking the elevator up these days.  As I walked through the double doors to the elevator vestibule, I noticed a sign taped to the steel doors.  "OUT OF SERVICE".  Ugh, seriously?  Since this was the only elevator I had access to in the building, I would be huffing it up the stairs.  Off I went, slow and steady up the long flights of stairs.  I saw some coworkers on the way up and we exchanged pleasantries like any other morning but then something didn't feel right.  As I neared the last several steps approaching the third floor, I felt dizzy and my vision was starting to get spotty.  Aware that falling would likely hurt or even kill the baby, I mustered up all my strength and willpower to propel myself up the remaining stairs and into the hallway.  If I was going to fall, it would be so much better to do it in the hallway than on the stairs!  Mere seconds later, I was at the threshold pulling the door open with all my might and struggling to catch my breath!  I was full out gasping!    

Now on a Monday morning at 9am, people are on their way to meetings in various places.  Thankfully, a coworker saw me in distress and came to my aid immediately.  The area that she helped me to was a high traffic location so I'm not kidding when I say half the company saw the pregnant lady sitting on the floor with her stuff.  One of the directors decided our on-site emergency team needed to be notified and while I would have protested had I known, he played a part in saving me and my baby that day.  Numerous coworkers asked "Are you okay?" out of concern which was very sweet but I was getting annoyed at being a spectacle.  I so wanted to say "Have you ever seen me sit on the floor in the hallway like this before?  Obviously, I'm not okay!"  But after sitting in the hallway for a few minutes, I felt completely fine and I was ready to get up, go to my desk and start another work week.  Then one of the women on the emergency team asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.  The hospital?  Do you think that's necessary?  "You're 24 weeks pregnant." she said.  "I think you should go just out of an abundance of caution.  If it were me, I would go."  

I can't stress enough that the only reason I agreed to go to the hospital was because I was pregnant with this precious little one.  I wasn't the least bit concerned about myself.  But the baby?  If there was ever any doubt, I would have walked through fire to ensure his well being.  Even when I was advised to call my husband to let him know what was going on, I resisted.  I didn't want to bother him at work.  I was still very much in denial about the severity of the situation because I felt good.  They were right, of course.  My husband definitely would want to know, so I called to explain in detail everything that had just transpired over the last half hour.  He was visiting a client out of state and was a good 90 minutes away from home and asked me if I thought he should come home.  I insisted he stay because I was convinced it would be an in-and-out visit to the ER.  To ease his nerves, I told him I would call my mom so I wouldn't be alone when I arrived at the hospital.  This seemed to satisfy his concern for now.  

Before long, the EMTs were wheeling me out of the building and let me tell you, being pushed on a gurney was somewhat comical to me because I was adamant about walking out of the building myself.  I felt like no one was hearing me when I said I felt fine!  Yet again, I was the spectacle of the day.  Being wheeled out of the building made me feel like a sad, pathetic float along a parade route!  Once in the ambulance, the EMTs took all of my vitals and information.  Everything was normal except my pulse seemed to be racing which isn't uncommon for pregnant women.  Still they made a note of it and off to the hospital I went.  All I could think of was the ridiculousness of this and the enormous cost we would incur from this eight mile ambulance ride when I could drive myself.  At the very least, I would have a great new story to tell my nephews.  "Auntie got to ride in an ambulance today!"  At least, they would be excited by this. 

You see, the scary part of all of this is that so many of the symptoms I was experiencing that morning and the few days leading up to it, were "normal" pregnancy symptoms.  Slowness.  Shortness of breath.  Tiredness.  All of the pregnancy books told me I should expect them.  Little did I know I was blaming the pregnancy for big, flashing red warning signs of impending doom.  I was ignoring all of the signs that death was imminent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Stay Tuned for Part 9:  Can I Go Home Yet?
Missed previous posts?  Click here to catch up!

I would love to connect with you. If you liked this post or were encouraged by it, please consider passing it on. Find me on Instagram and Twitter.